


That's Christmas Magic

by remembermyfic



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Magic, Christmas Magic, Erie Otters, F/M, Magical Realism, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 06:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16805557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remembermyfic/pseuds/remembermyfic
Summary: Darren, who is patiently listening to Alex’s rant for the fortieth time, even though he absolutely could be hitting on one of the many females in attendance, offers her an arched eyebrow. “Couldn’t you just make them one?”Alex sends him a baleful look. “It absolutely does not work like that and you know it.”





	That's Christmas Magic

**Author's Note:**

> If you know people mentioned or are people mentioned, trust me, close this now. 
> 
> AAG!Alex has been an "I want to write" for months. Shannon knows this. 
> 
> I stole this idea with permission from L.

Alex doesn’t wear sweats to the party, but only because Maksi pulled out begging eyes. So she’s wearing jeans, at a party she really hadn’t wanted to attend in the first place. Even if half the team is here.

“There isn’t even a wreath,” she gripes.

Darren, who is patiently listening to Alex’s rant for the fortieth time, even though he absolutely could be hitting on one of the many females in attendance, offers her an arched eyebrow. “Couldn’t you just make them one?”

Alex sends him a baleful look. “It absolutely does not work like that and you know it.”

Her power, even at its strongest in December, cannot fashion an entire wreath. The boughs, sure, but she’s a hockey player not a florist. Darren has been around long enough to get the magic is not a wholesale thing.

(The first year, when the team found out, they’d tried to get her to conjure a whole Christmas tree. It… hadn’t gone well. Dylan still made them keep the Charlie Brown-looking embarrassment in the locker room until the new year.)

“I mean,” Darren shrugs. “If you’re going to bitch about it all night.”

“Was this not advertised as a Christmas party?” Alex responds.

“Most people have to buy decorations, dumbass.”

“Oh good, you’re here.”

She absolutely does not yelp when Dylan drapes himself over her shoulders, fuck what Darren says. Or what his face says, anyway. “Hi to you too, I guess.”

He grumbles and leans on her with more weight, gets an elbow to his stomach because Alex doesn’t take his shit. He makes a winded noise that makes her smile triumphantly. He shifts to wrap an arm around her instead and Alex looks up.

“Something you wanted, Stromer?”

“A favour,” he says, and it’s much too smooth.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “A favour,” she repeats slowly.

“Nice people do them for friends, right D?”

“I wouldn’t know. I play with a bunch of assholes,” is Darren’s deadpan answer. Alex smacks him.

“People dream of playing with me,” she retorts, absolutely gearing up for battle. “I am a delight.”

It says something about how Dylan feels about what he’s asking that he doesn’t allow chirping Darren to deter him. “Alex.”

He manages to turn it into six syllables and Alex rolls her eyes. “What kind of favour?”

Which is when he turns squirrely and that makes her raise an eyebrow. Dylan only gets squirrely when he’s nervous and he’s only nervous on the ice before big games.

“Dylan.”

“I need mistletoe.”

Alex’s stomach drops. It’s fucking irritating if she’s honest, and it’s been happening more and more often this season. She copes by pasting on the best leering grin she can muster. “What’s her name?”

Dylan lifts his arm from her shoulders and Alex frowns. When she turns to face him head on, he won’t meet her eyes. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Even Darren doesn’t look convinced, which does not help Alex’s stomach return to her abdomen. Dylan, oblivious as always, turns on the pout. “Come on Al,” he needles. “It’s not a Christmas party without mistletoe.”

Alex snorts despite herself, and Darren barks out a laugh. “There’s nothing Christmas about this party, dumbass. Mistletoe won’t save it.”

“Please?”

His puppy eyes are shit, which makes the fact that she wants to give in all the more irritating.

(She sees the puppy eyes a lot this time of year, so maybe she’s just conditioned to respond to them. His face when she finally makes the snowflakes fall from above his head fucking lights up. 90% of Alex’s memories involving that look, that snow, include cheering up even the mopiest Otters.

She vividly remembers Connor, pissed and livid, softening as he reached out to touch the flakes as they fell.)

It doesn’t require anything fancy on her part. She simply lifts her hand, palm up, and in the centre lies a green sprig. Dylan even laughs a little, like he’s still fascinated that her magic is a thing. Then he leans in and kisses her cheek briefly.

“Thanks Brinks.”

He’s gone in the next blink and Alex huffs out a breath. “Like I can create Christmas.”

Darren’s just arching an eyebrow at her when she looks up at him.

“What?”

“You’re not upset?”

“That Dylan wants mistletoe? No. Should have come prepared though.”

Darren snorts. “The day pigs fly.”

“Valid.”

She loses sight of him and the mistletoe as she makes the rounds. She’s coming out of the kitchen, drink in hand because she’s so irritated there’s no goddamn Christmas at this ‘Christmas party’, when she runs head on into Dylan.

“There you are,” she says, and smiles. “How many did you catch, Casanova?”

He shrugs.

Alex watches him for a beat, then another for good measure. Then she huffs. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Dylan.” She steps closer because no one else needs to hear them. “You can’t fucking stand still. What the hell is going on?”

“Um.” His eyes flick up and Alex’s follow. There, tied to the doorframe, is the sprig of mistletoe. When she looks back at Dylan, he’s bright red. Her stomach does that weird dropping thing again. It’s no less irritating and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s okay dude. No one’s watching.”

But Dylan doesn’t move. His leg is bouncing and he’s standing which makes his whole body vibrate and honestly, Alex is about to lose her mind.

“Dylan-“

The kiss is strange and awkward and Alex almost literally jumps. He won’t look at her when he pulls away.

“What the fuck?” she blurts out, then hisses, “I told you, you didn’t have to-“

“You’re the girl.”

Alex blinks. “What?”

He takes a deep breath and forces himself still. “Who the mistletoe is for. You asked.”

Oh. That’s what helps her stomach come back into her abdomen. It bypasses it and ends up in her throat, but beggars can’t be choosers. “Me.”

“You,” he snorts. “So. Thanks for making it here. Took you forever.”

The full reality of what’s happening hits her. She hits Dylan.

“Ow!”

“You couldn’t just use your fucking words? You had to figure out how to manipulate me into this position when you could have _said anything_ you fucking idiot.”

“Hey, hey, hey!” But he’s laughing when he catches her wrists and tugs her in. His smile is… something else. “So yeah?”

“Yes, you idiot, oh my god, you’re the most oblivious person on the planet-“

He kisses her, and they have to readjust because she’d been gearing up for a hell of a rant, but this one is good. It’s really good. Which is great, considering she’s kind of into the idea of doing this more and more.

“Better?” he asks, and he’s breathing heavier which, yeah, Alex really likes.

“Better.”


End file.
